


On your knees, soldier.

by MarcellaEReeves



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM Scene, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Dom Keith (Voltron), Dom/sub, Erotica, Established Relationship, Light Bondage, M/M, POV Shiro (Voltron), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rope Bondage, Smutty, Sub Shiro (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 16:05:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12708315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcellaEReeves/pseuds/MarcellaEReeves
Summary: 'You remember your safeword?’ Shiro could feel Keith’s hands pulling at the ropes binding his wrists. Something rough that felt a little like jute but with a little more give. He could escape if he had to.He nodded, rolling his shoulders as he sensed Keith come and stand before him. A blindfold stopped him seeing, but he felt the touch of a thumb on his forehead and realised he was frowning, something Keith had told him off about before. He shuffled from foot to foot as his nerves started to claim him, only for gentle fingers to pull his head down so he was resting against Keith’s shoulder, stroking against his undercut.‘…thanks for this…’ Keith had understood his request, despite his trepidation bringing it up. Sometimes having to always be in control took its toll on him, and recently he’d been wearing thin enough to consider asking Keith to dominate him.Lips were pressed to his cheek, reassuring and kind, before that hand in his hair tightened and pulling a gasp from him.‘On your knees, soldier’





	On your knees, soldier.

'You remember your safeword?’ Shiro could feel Keith’s hands pulling at the ropes binding his wrists. Something rough that felt a little like jute but with a little more give. He could escape if he had to.  
  
He nodded, rolling his shoulders as he sensed Keith come and stand before him. A blindfold stopped him seeing, but he felt the touch of a thumb on his forehead and realised he was frowning, something Keith had told him off about before. He shuffled from foot to foot as his nerves started to claim him, only for gentle fingers to pull his head down so he was resting against Keith’s shoulder, stroking against his undercut.  
  
It helped, it really helped, quieting the rattling his heart was doing. The scent of vetiver and leather flooded his nose and it was so unmistakably Keith that Shiro found his shoulders dropping and a sigh escaping him.  
  
‘…thanks for this…’ Keith had understood his request, despite his trepidation bringing it up. Sometimes having to always be in control took its toll on him, and recently he’d been wearing thin enough to consider asking Keith to dominate him.  
  
Lips were pressed against his cheek, reassuring and kind, before that hand in his hair tightened and pulling a gasp from him.  
  
‘On your knees, soldier’  
  
He complied, dropping, only to have his head pulled back. So Keith hadn’t meant he should fall so suddenly. He tensed his thighs to try and slow the descent, so the impact wouldn’t hurt as much. The hand relaxed and stroked his hair a little before pulling away.

‘Sorry, I didn’t realise I-‘ He started to explain, but was cut off by a gloved hand over his mouth. 

‘Don’t speak anymore. Not until you’re spoken to.’ Keith said. Shiro closed his mouth, setting his jaw to obey. If that was a rule now, he’d follow it. The hand pushed him down so he was more sitting than kneeling before it moved away, and he heard the rest of Keith follow it. Perhaps settling in the corner of the room?He tilted his head to try and hear where Keith had gone - sitting on the bed? There had been a huff of air that sounded like an Altean mattress being sat on. The scuff of boots against the floo-

‘-Takashi.’ Keith’s tone and use of his first name jolted him. His spine stiffened as he held his breath. ‘Keep your head facing forward until I want you.’ He swallowed and straightened his head, willing himself to relax. His heart seemed to be trying to escape his chest, and so that was the first thing he focused on slowing. A little difficult, since every time he lowered his shoulders, the ropes around his wrist would chafe the skin. He wasn’t sure what kind it was or where Keith had found it, but it was starting to get irritating.

His submission was truly tested when he heard the shuffling sound of papers. He hadn’t pictured Keith to be so… _patient_ when he’d imagined this. Given his usual temperament, Shiro had expected to be tied down and used, not left kneeling, blindfolded bound and naked in the middle of Keith’s room whilst the other man fucking _read_. He chewed his tongue as he considered safewording. It was his own fault, after all, he was the one who’d asked this of Keith, a combination of a hobby he’d enjoyed in a past life and a way of forgetting his responsibilities - even if only for a few hours. 

It was also another thing to take back from the Galra, and that had been the main point he’d pushed with Keith. Shiro had told him, of course, about dipping into the scene outside of work. He’d even joked that perhaps it was why he enjoyed the military, being ordered around wasn’t that difficult or repulsive. Keith had understood.  


But Keith hadn’t suggested it. He’d even asked what Shiro wanted from him, how he could help. He’d seen it at the time as being interest, but perhaps it was just Keith wanting to rescue him again. That thought left an acrid taste in his mouth, like licking battery acid. Time to call this off, step up and hopefully drop this experience down to joke level so their relationship could be saved.   
  
He opened his mouth to speak, only to snap it shut as the once-familiar sting of leather against flesh crackled between his shoulder blades. In his reverie, he hadn’t heard Keith move, but he knew from the way his skin still tingled one of his own abandoned gloves had been used to strike him. He felt the brush of long hair on his shoulder as Keith leaned down, controlled breathing against his neck and ear. The urge to turn his head was crushed with an iron will as he remembered Keith’s last rule.  


‘If you want to submit to me…’ Keith spoke slowly, and Shiro got the distinct impression he was making sure he understood. ‘you’ll do it how I want you to. You’re thinking so loudly I can hear you all the way across the room. So you will sit quietly, including _up-here,_ ’ Both words were punctuated with a sharp prod to the back of his skull. ‘until I want you.’ Shiro swallowed, nerves and… _excitement_ suddenly making his throat too dry and his mouth too wet. ‘Understand?’  


He nodded, but the glove struck again and he hissed at the sting.   
  
‘I asked you a question, Lieutenant.’ Shiro recognised that tone, it made his lower abdomen clench in excitement.  
  
‘Yes, Sir’  
  
His response seemed to please Keith, who returned to the bed and started reading again. Shiro rolled his shoulder blades and reorganised his posture so that he was sitting closer to seiza, although his knees were a little far apart, and the floor was cold on the tops of his feet. He wasn’t reprimanded, so he settled down in his mind.  
  
There was a scratching of a pen against paper, and Shiro had to fight himself. He hadn’t been told to think or analyse. He had to trust that Keith would be strong enough to manage his desires. It was still troubling that he’d even raised the issue at all, let alone request-

- _no._ Shiro stopped that train of thought with a deliberate exhale, forcing the tension that had gathered in his frame to leave. After a few moments, he was aware of silence breaking to the sound of pen on paper again and was suddenly aware he’d been examined. So perhaps Keith was more adept at this than he’d thought? 

It didn’t matter, he’d do as he was told. And he’d been told not to think.

Trying not to think was about as easy as it sounded, so instead, Shiro focused on his breathing. Gentle sensations of cool air passing through his nose and into the back of his mouth, drying his throat and filling his stomach before the reverse happened. It was grounding him to the environment. The cold of the floor had given into an uneasy truce with the warmth of his legs, and his arms were starting to protest at being restrained. Once a willingly familiar sensation, but now unfortunately foreign. The sounds of writing had also…  
  
He pulled himself back to breathing. Deeply, so his core muscles creaked at being forced to release tensions they’d held for years. He’d never made himself relax so completely since before Kerberos, and it was frightening, in a way. His muscles kept flinching as they tried to keep them relaxed. Too long being kept on his toes since then, during captivity and after, as the head of…

In and out… In… and out… In… The rhythm was familiar, the hum of the Castle’s engines rumbling through his bones helped him focus on his body. If his muscles fluttered before they submitted to Keith’s will then they did that. If his arms protested then let them, _He_ wanted it. The ropes on his wrists were rough because _Sir_ wanted to remind him of his place. 

Shiro ran a tongue over his upper lip. They were certainly reminding him alright. Delicious friction and mental restraints tugging him towards a precipice he was dangerously close to falling from.

‘I want you here now, Takashi’ A gasp was uncontrollable, and he rose to put a foot on the floor, but was interrupted. ‘You’re supposed to be on your knees.’ said Sir, and Shiro put his knee back on the ground, head dropping a little in embarrassment. He didn’t want to disappoint, but he’d already broken instructions and rules. He’d be better from now on. 

He’d please his Sir.   
  
Walking on his knees to where he’d heard his instruction, he was met with calloused fingertips on his cheeks, two hands pulling him down with only a whisper of intent to guide him. Back into seiza, in between legs, his head resting on a thigh. He breathed deeply to acclimatise as his skin started to turn hypersensitive. Smooth denim under one cheek, leather-wrapped hand stroking his other. They were both so undeniably Sir’s that he calmed even more, content and sighing at being touched so gently. A thumb traced his lips, and it was easier to fight the temptation to lick it now he knew he hadn’t been told to.

‘I’ve always thought you had a pretty mouth, lieutenant’ a thrum of pleasure coursed through his veins at the praise. ‘Too pretty to be shouting orders at people...’ fingers slipped under his jaw, pulling his mouth open so that thumb could slip inside. Shiro pressed his tongue against the pad and was rewarded with Sir’s other hand lacing fingers through his hair. 

‘If I could,’ Thumb tracing wetness over his lips, and he swallowed. There was something uncertain in Sir’s tone. ‘...I’d keep you here all the time. Ready to please me.’ 

It was enough, finally pulling him under with a tremble and a gasp. After so long, the fall was a little terrifying, but visions of existing only to please and soothe Sir with his obedience were an enticing release to his higher thoughts. Endorphins drugged him and brought tears to his eyes. _Yes_ , he wanted to say, _I want to serve you_. But the words weren’t his to speak.

‘What do you think about that?’ He could hear the doubt in the question, and rushed to ease it.

‘I want that, Sir.’ He could hear the strain arousal had on his voice. ‘I want to please you.’ He almost missed the quiet sound of breathing sharpening above him, but when he recognised it his gut coiled. Slowly, slowly, his blindfold was removed, and he blinked to clear his vision. 

Before his eyes his Sir was swollen, fabric taught, and he shuddered at the knowledge it had been because of _his_ actions. No verbal pleading, he hadn’t been allowed to, so instead he implored with his gaze, steel meeting indigo. _Please_ , he asked, _please Sir, let me_.  
  
Sir stood, pushing him into leaning back before supporting the back of his head. It made the suspension easier for Shiro to maintain whilst his chest was straddled. Not once did he break eye contact or look away, even though the sound of belts being unbuckled and fly being unzipped tested his self-control.  
  
Only when Sir leaned down and pressed sweet lips to his face and whispered sin in his ear did his resolve snap, eyes jolting south.

_'No teeth, Takashi.’_

No, not even once would he, as his mouth was filled with heat and flesh and he so carefully shielded his teeth. Not once would he break that rule here, even as he was held at such an angle that he could do no more than hollow his cheeks and flatten his tongue. A held breath released as a shudder from above had his eyes fluttering closed and he focused. His Sir was so strong to hold him like this. It made his belly pool with heat.  
  
Snapping of hips abused his throat and gagged him, but he fought. If his position meant he couldn’t do anything more than fight his body’s natural reactions then he would cling to it, for Sir’s pleasure. The thrusts quickened, abusing his throat before finally his mouth was filled and his head held in place, nose covered with skin and Sir’s unusually sweet musk, hot wetness pooling in his mouth and trying to choke him. Trembling moans and shudders from the man holding him as he continued to suck, hand fisting in his hair as a warning before his mouth was abandoned, pulled back up so he could support his own weight.  
  
A trail of release bridged them before it snapped and dropped on his chin with an accompanying _fuck_ from Sir, and Shiro felt only triumph burning in his loins and twisting away the neutrality of his face.  


‘Swallow.’ Quiet, as if not to break the moment. Shiro held his gaze as he complied, seeing his action rewarded with the rush of power behind Sir’s gaze. It went down as easily as nunvil, but that expression burned like glycerin in his veins.  
  
Tracing his tongue over his chin so he wouldn’t miss a single drop prompted instant action.  
  
‘On the bed. On your back. Now.’ There was something guttural and raw in the order, like the sound a wild animal in the dark only made when escape was impossible, and it _thrilled_ Shiro to be under this man’s control. He hurried over on his knees, rolling onto the bed as gracefully as someone with his size and restrictions could, but it hadn’t seemed to matter - the second he was in place hands were pushing and pulling him. Feet on the bed, knees spread, underwear thrown somewhere. There was no point hiding himself, being watched as Sir peeled his own clothes away, even if he hadn’t been wearing much to begin with.  
  
‘Look at you Takashi,’ The urge to close his legs and shy away suddenly washed over him, but strong hands were on his knees before he could do more than look away. Introspection was dragging him out of his headspace, but Keith continued. ‘so beautiful for me, spreading your legs so prettily.’ It seemed he could be pushed back under at Sir’s will, but being told he was beautiful was the thing that sang over his fears like a balm.  
  
‘You want me, don’t you? Want me to use you,’ And _oh god yes,_ _he did_ , visions flitting behind closed eyes at the statement that still demanded an answer because he was good, and good boys answered when they were spoken to.

‘Yes, Sir!’ Lust and want reduced his commanding tone to a shadow, and he heard it, and he needed it to be heard. And then powerful hands were on him and inside him, stripped of their leather and baring his soul. Breaking him and reforging him with the talented strokes of a master crafter. He strangled his whimper, because he was still good.

  
‘No pretty boy,’ His knee on an arm. A hand on his shoulder, its brother lower, guiding.

Positioning, lifting him. ’Let me hear what you sound like while I ruin you.’

He couldn’t think for a moment, only feel as whines escaped and his nerves sang with Sir’s fire, his body cleaved in two. Tears welled behind his eyes before they were brushed away. _Please, use me!_ His only want then was to be owned and to serve, a want which was being repeatedly filled with relentlessness.

Every thrust tore another moan from him. He should have worried about the volume, or about disturbing the rest of the Castle, but he wasn’t told to worry and so he didn’t. Indigo still held him in place as the tendons in his feet strained, pulling and his body threatened to snap. That hand held him, firm and quick and tearing him apart until his vision blackened and he was snapping open, spilling onto his own chest.  


…It was a few moments until he returned to consciousness, having been caught in the in-between. He found gentle strokes to his calf, body empty and spent but his Sir wasn’t. It would have been disappointing if not for the intensity of the gaze he was fixed with. Throat dry. He swallowed.   
  
‘Over.’  


No sooner than he had complied a hand was in his hair and keeping him down, the other in a crushing grip on his hip and he was entered. Used. It would have been too much usually, should have been too intense, but focused so intently he couldn’t find it anything less than perfect.   
  
A little more before he was filled, that grip somehow tightening as he heard a mumbled ‘ _fuck, Shiro’_ from behind him. 

Satisfaction at being good meant he couldn’t control his smile as he was pulled up, by the shoulders, before his back met chest and arms were wrapped around his torso. Gentle kisses were pressed against Shiro’s head as he was stroked, and reality crept over him with a blanket of exhaustion. That had… been intense. Somehow more than anything he’d experienced on Earth, despite only being simple.   
  
He ran over his body mentally: still sluggish, that was to be expected. A little dehydrated, his arms hurt and the skin over his wrist was stinging. His legs held the kind of soreness that came from kneeling on a floor for too long, and there was an ache in his lower back he certainly wouldn’t be forgetting tomorrow.  
  
But the clammy skin pressed against his back was trembling, and a spike of worry started to clear his head. He was still being stroked and held, still having breathy kisses pressed against his head and neck.  
  
‘Keith,’ his voice was rougher than he was expecting. ‘how are you holding u-‘ His chest was gently slapped.  
  
‘Let me just…’ Whatever he wanted to say got lost in a sigh, cool against Shiro’s ear. As nice as being held was his muscles were starting to complain, but if that’s what Keith needed he’d stay quiet. ‘I’ll take care of you, okay.’ Keith seemed a lot more composed now, although his tone suggested less of a question and more internalised instructions. ‘Sit up.’  
  
First, his wrists were unbound, and he hissed at the ache. The skin over his wrist was abraded slightly. Nothing worse than he’d had before, and certainly not enough to scar. But when Keith didn’t release his hand Shiro twisted around. Guilt stained Keith’s face, and that was unacceptable.  
  
‘I’m fine; I wanted to be tied up, and I knew what would happen. This is fine Keith, you did a good job.’ Reassuring Keith came naturally, although Shiro hadn’t actually expected that he’d need to; he’d never expected to get this far.  
  
Communication. That would fix this. Turning over so he was kneeling and facing Keith, he shook off the last remnants of his altered headspace with a roll of his shoulders. ‘At the end, people usually talk about what went well for them, things they didn’t like. We should do that, okay?’ Pause, because he’d need space after that. Shiro went to get them both water, quickly wiping himself as the water chilled, before returning and offering a glass to Keith whilst he sipped his own.  
  
‘So how was it for you?’  
  
Keith seemed reluctant to answer, taking the water (his eyes flicked to the marring on Shiro’s wrist before his guilty expression returned) and drinking it on autopilot. But Shiro would wait until he was told to drop it.  
  
‘I…’ Gears were turning, internal dialogue again. Shiro continued drinking before sitting on the edge of the bed, gaze still fixed on Keith. ‘It was weird, things got kind of… distorted.’ Keith nodded, though he wasn’t looking at Shiro while he did so. ‘I knew I could ask you to do anything and you would and it was…’ Shiro reached out and placed his hand against Keith’s inner ankle, metal on flesh.  
  
‘Well, that happened to me too.’ If Keith was describing what he thought he was describing then that was… exciting. It meant Keith hadn’t been simply going along with the evening. Churning thoughts made him look out to the room, sipping more of his water. ’Obviously in reverse, but I liked wanting only what you wanted me to do.’ He scratched fingers through the stubble starting to creep back over his cheek. A gulp had him meeting Keith’s gaze again.  
  
‘I…’ Whisper quiet Keith spoke, as if afraid of his own thoughts. ‘I liked it, Shiro.’ He swallowed again, and it had Shiro mirroring the action. ‘I liked having that control, that you trusted me to.. to…’  
  
Shiro saw the moment Keith shut himself down, locking any thoughts about the issue away to be processed later, and that was fine. It was inherently Keith, and Shiro wouldn’t have him any other way. He pressed his lips to Keith’s knee, smiling.  
  
‘Let’s go get washed up and then see if there aren’t any snacks or anything to eat before we go to sleep.’ Slightly sticky was fine but this was starting to get itchy. ‘We can talk more about this whenever you want to, okay?’ Standing up when the other man nodded, he couldn’t stop the smile on his face. It had been a long time since he’d felt so carefree and relaxed, so weightless, and Keith’s shy grin seemed to indicate he was feeling the same thing too.  
  
Everything the universe threw at him he’d endure, if only to be able to make Keith smile like that.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the first kind of smutty thing I've written. Unsure about the rating, but since nothing has been mentioned there we go D n D
> 
> I might write a C2 based on Keith's POV but I'm listing it as complete for now.
> 
> I don't really have much to say outside of that haha. 
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr @marcellaereeves or twitter under the same! I don't bite~


End file.
